Dangerous Game
by Kumon5
Summary: Set after Civil War. Loki has been captured and 'rehabilitated' for use as the Avengers' wild card. One night, he is sent to retrieve the Dominatrix Irene Adler, a powerful enemy of almost every civilized nation on Earth. When two broken souls collide, all nine realms will witness raw resourcefulness, strategy, and a little magic wreak havoc that only two master tricksters can.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Loki hummed as he traced his lover's pale hipbone. It was a strange sequence of events that had brought them together, but he had never been so enamored with anyone before. Asgardian females were fierce and blunt and sometimes stupid. Most human females were worse: weak, fearful, and stupid again. The other alien races were unpalatable, for the most part. But this woman, whose tongue was as sharp and as skilled as her whip, whose mind was as keen and slippery as his own, she delighted him in all ways. She was daring, forward, seductive, clever, and often kind to him in ways he'd longed for since his miserable birth. She knew all the Norse histories, Greek myths, even the stories of the Egyptian pantheon. Yes, Irene was the one who he would mourn most if she never gained the gift of immortality.

He reflected back on their first meeting: he had not been looking for a bed warmer, but she had. She was magnificent, but subtly so. After all, she could only blend in with the night life so much before her brilliance was dimmed.

And there she was in a black gown, sipping dark red wine. It was expensive, and she was confident. She also had Sigyn's grace and beauty, and Angrboda's fierceness. He had parted ways with them less than amiably, since he had attempted to conquer the earth and become the pariah of Asgard.

His mission was to take her into custody. His mortal ties, his brother, and his grudging affection for his new family kept him obedient to orders- but Fury did give him a loose leash. He was given simple orders and could carry them out however he wished.

Casting a few runes to alter his invisibility, he approached. She was unaware of his tricks, but he'd been warned against hers already. She had been texting moments ago, probably to take a photograph of him. Silly mortal- the photo could not capture him when he altered the universe around him.

"Hello." She was the first to speak. Her lips were red with what he termed 'stick-rouge,' and her eyes accented with dark gel. She had called attention to herself, perhaps to meet with a client. He was the only one she'd meet, however. Her voice was not high or low, but carried a slow-moving ferocity that curled his gut into pleasant knots.

"Good evening."

"You're new." It wasn't a question.

"Am I?" His green eyes were fixed to hers, narrowed and half playful. She knew her pursuers instinctively.

"I've never seen you about, and you're at ease."

"And people aren't usually at ease?"

"Not with me they aren't." Her accent was soothing, and her eyes trailed his figure. He was taller than most mortals, and she was smaller, but he felt their wit was matched. After all, she had evaded the detective Sherlock Holmes thus far, and he was Fury's most valuable resource, if not his most reliable. Here, they were sending a jackal to ensnare a weasel- though a ferret or sable was much more her character.

"And what do you do that makes men uneasy?"

She smiled coldly. "Oh, I think you know, Loki Laufeyson." She was cocky, and she did have the upper hand- for now.

"I do, Mistress Adler," he said, addressing her by the name she bore to her clients.

"Pray tell, then: what's your business with me?"

"That of one trickster to another: information."

She bit her lip. One advantage of the mortal world was that they cleansed their teeth regularly. Hers were nicely, though not unnaturally, white. They made her thin lips like lines of blood. "Of what sort?" Her tone was quite suggestive. Obviously, it was a play- if she attracted him, she might manipulate him and escape. It was an amateur thing to the trickster god, but for some reason, it was working. Two could play that game.

He hummed deeply, letting a slight growl slip into his voice. "The sort you'll have to divulge to me alone, somewhere else." Could he really bring this clever beauty back to the Avengers' tower to be interrogated? It would be a pity, a great pity to see her beaten or injected with brain-damaging truth serum. Perhaps he could prevent that- after all, all he needed was the information. All he had to do was wheedle it out of her at the tower. It would be easy to bind her and spirit her away without a trace, but he didn't want to. He wanted to play with her a bit.

"You drive a dangerous bargain, Loki."

"No more dangerous than the one you propose with your eyes, with your thoughts." He could read her, but her mind was strong, harder to pry open. He pressed a finger to his lips and drew a rune in the air, shimmering and golden. It was the ken rune, for wood, energy, appropriate for the tension crackling between them. "Come with me."

"Are you really asking?" She sipped her wine again- a sign of nerves, though to the outside eye she was calm as ever.

"No, but I'd rather not make this more painful than it has to be."

She sighed and put aside her glass. "Pity. I rather like this wine. Care for a sip?"

"More; a draught, if you please." To his pleasure, she poured him a mouthful and handed it to him. Her fingers were just as cold as his own.

"To you, then." She raised her cup.

"And to you." Together, they drank. He took her arm as she stood, flagged a cab down at the corner, and they rode in comfortable silence to the tower.

...

Fury was a bit surprised when they pulled up and paid the driver. He was even more taken aback when Loki opened the door for her like a gentleman and helped her out. She obviously didn't need it. He raised the eyebrow over his good eye. "Didn't know you kids needed a chaperone on your night out."

"We don't. Hello Fury," Adler said, striding up. "What have I done now?"

"You know exactly what you've done."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific." Loki had to admire how confident she was at gunpoint. Though mortal weapons were ineffective against him, they were very effective against her, yet she didn't flinch. Her steely nerve was unshakeable. At least, it seemed so. She had only been shaken when he's taken her in. But then, she'd still held up considerably well in a god's forcible custody. She'd been in this sort of situation before, just as he had. At that realization, his sympathies went with her. Fury wasn't the most compromising (or clever) person to deal with.

"The business with ISIS. You have details on what they'll blow up next."

"Oh, that little thing?" She held out her camera phone. It had been upgraded from her old one, still in the hands of Sherlock Holmes. It was a smartphone, but probably locked with a long password and set to explode should anyone enter the the wrong combination on the first try. Loki knew all this from his brief and her files. Once burned, twice shy. "Take it. You won't find anything." Even more shy, he thought. She had kept her information in her head, but still played as if she kept files on her cell. He knew, but didn't interfere. His duty had ended at the moment they left the cab.

"We'll see about that. Loki, watch her. Get her a room."

"I'm not your dog," he retorted haughtily, but offered his arm again. The agents hefted their cannons at them as they strolled inside.

...

They flirted all the way up, to the point where the guards cleared their throats, clearly uncomfortable. Between all the innuendos, he sensed she was only playing. It was their delight to make their elevator companions discomfited.

"So, how are you with touch?" It was a forward question from a bold woman.

"Touch is like all other senses," he evaded, "if used like them."

"And if not used like them?"

"I always use touch like my other senses. Touch alone does not bring the utmost pleasure."

"And what does?" The guard next to her coughed, but she ignored it.

"Senses used in conjunction bring the fullest experience. Of course, their singular pleasures are not devalued in my eyes: of sight, of smell and sound."

"An astute conjecture. Yet I find in the absence of others, one sense can be honed, stimulated to its utmost without distraction."

They reached their destination, stepping out into the carpeted hallway as if they were alone. The guards patted them both down, as if they could have hidden any weapons on their way in. Loki bore it with a roll of his eyes, and she gave him a sympathetic look as they took her hairpins, necklace, and brooch. "I assume I'll have my room now?"

"You assume rightly; however, I am constrained to look after you, though I can't say that would be altogether an unpleasant experience." He casually buffed his nails on his suit jacket.

"So we share a room."

"As you like." His smile was calculated, one corner stretching just until he looked arch and handsome. She wasn't averse to it, after all. Fury had only wanted him to watch her, and he could do that most effectively while they shared a room. His smirk told her it was an option, not a command, but she didn't feel like giving anyone a reason to distrust her this early on.

They entered the room just adjacent a comfortable-looking kitchen. Loki turned back to the ever-vigilant guard. "Don't bother: she can't escape a god." Irene chuckled. He obviously was toying with authority, and even though she knew she was with one of the most dangerous beings in the multiverse, she wasn't afraid. He was a fellow trickster, and she should not trust him, but something about him put her at ease. Perhaps after all she's been through, he couldn't faze her. There wasn't a point to going on with her work as a dominatrix, not when every government would hunt her and torture her. This was her prison, and if she willed it, her sanctuary.

It was time for her to retire, for the fire of her will to extinguish itself. She hadn't, nor would she resist. The Avengers would have been amusing to toy with if she was the woman she had been. She could have hacked Stark's suits or rigged War Machine's weapons. She could have set the tower security on itself, poisoned Captain America, stuck the Winter Soldier to an electromagnet, tricked the green monster into rampaging through the city, and incapacitate the peashooter and his bird friend. And, while the Widow was out calming the Hulk, she could slip away to another country, maybe a quiet little place in Denmark or Sweden.

But she would not. It was time to give up. Sherlock had broken her will to live. The only thing left was captivity.

Once the door was closed, she sat primly on the large bed. It had been tailored for this man's Asgardian frame, though compared to his brother he was a stick. Loki, still in his formalwear, turned to her. A few whispers, and the runes nyd, is, and an inverted tyr wound themselves around her wrist like a bracelet. She felt nothing.

"What's this?"

He held up his own wrist. "I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of shackles, Lady Adler." On it glowed a bracelet of the same design, etched in his skin. "Only, I find this brand is far more comfortable."

"I am no lady. What do they do?" She rested her chin on her hand.

"You'll find you're unable to leave the detection of my senses. I thought it appropriate, considering the subject of our conversation."

"Well, I hope you'll let me out of your sight to bathe. It'd be terribly awkward if you were to see me indisposed."

"I find that hard to believe."

"And why so?"

"You are completely unfazed by sharing a room with a stranger. I don't doubt nudity is a part of your much-practiced repertoire."

"Fair enough." She started stripping down to bathe. He did not turn away. She wasn't a lady, and he certainly wasn't a gentleman. "Do you have facial cleanser?"

"I do, actually. You'll find it on the rack." His eyes travelled down her back, which was speckled with the occasional freckle.

"Good. I'd hate to spoil my complexion by leaving my makeup on."

...

When she emerged from the bathroom, her hair still down and wet, clad in a towel, she was much more tired. Her eyes carried baggage, probably as heavy as his own. She looked younger too, more innocent. She caught his stare with s weary smile. "Like what you see?"

"No," he said, lying through his teeth. She knew it, too.

"Have you got clothes for me, or should I just sleep nude?" He was going to flirt, but without her facade, a veil of sadness covered her. She was just like him; he wasn't ready to give up his armor just yet.

"In the bureau. You'll find my silks."

"Hm. Classy." After a moment of changing into the otherworldly garments, she collapsed on the bed and immediately curled into a ball, like a turtle retreating into its shell. Her eyes closed, and though her breathing was steady, she wasn't asleep.

With a snap, Loki was cleansed and dressed, and he too fell into a dreamless rest. They were a strange two, to be sure: both prisoners, both broken and sad. His last thought was that perhaps in this place where he languished, she would thrive.

...

In the middle of the night, a groan awakened him. His bed partner was stirring, shifting with fear. That was one of the spells in his handiwork: he could always tell what she was thinking. Nightmares like this often strained his own mind. From the bracelet's functions, he perceived flashes of gunmetal, blood, and pain, but where? She had no scars to her body that he had seen, and he'd seen quite a lot.

He could have left her to suffer, but against his better judgement, he cast ur, thorn, jera, and lagu, justifying himself with the though that if she didn't have peace, neither would he. As the runes of protection, health, peace, and dreams slipped into her psyche, she stilled, and her face smoothed. But he couldn't find sleep easily. She was rather pretty, with her thin lips, her hair tangled over her features like a veil.

He put the thought from his mind. Still, it was long minutes before he closed his eyes again.

…

The next morning, they were summoned by Fury. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen apart, he'd been using Stark's tower as his headquarters. Loki didn't know all the details- he wasn't allowed to. Fury turned to them. Adler was still in his silk pajamas, and he had opted to arrive shirtless. Everyone was looking at them, and she was watching his pectorals rise and fall with each breath, as if pondering how to slice them. He rather liked it, but no one had had breakfast yet, and his empty stomach was uncomfortable.

"What warrants the director's summon so early this fine morn?" he asked, viciously sarcastic. Fury didn't answer.

"Adler." He held up her phone. "Someone called you on this."

"That'll be my assistant. Give it to me." Bedraggled as she was, she still retained a semblance of pride.

Director Fury. "It wasn't your assistant. She died several weeks ago in a mess with the Serbian mafia." He glared at her. "You want to know who called, you'll have to give over the information on ISIS."

"I think you want something more than that," she accused.

"And what's that?" he asked, challenging her.

"You want the pleasure of breaking the Dominatrix." Anger rose in her tone. "Well, it's too late for that now. I have already been broken." With that, she stalked away. "You won't find anything," she called back. "ISIS will attack D.C. on the ides of march. Now leave me alone."

A few tense moment later, Fury grimaced. "She's right- I would have liked cracking her." Then he turned to Loki with a sigh. "Loki, you're a wild card at this point. I want you to rehabilitate her. I want her on the team."

"And what if I don't?"

"You go back and face justice in Asgard, as Queen Sif wanted. May I remind you, you left that place a wreck. I wouldn't be surprised if she had you executed for the mess you made." He smirked. "But I won't have to threaten you again. You'll do it."

"How do you know?"

"She walked in wearing your clothes, from your room. Now you tell me just what anyone would have thought." Then Fury and his entourage exited the living room and left Loki to his ruminations. He had never fit with the Avengers: he had too much on his head, and too much regrettable history with Thor to truly be called an insider. More than that, he was expendable. Only Thor would really mourn him if he died, and maybe the rest would consider it a loss.

Irene Adler was much the same. She knew too much to be called safe, and she was a threat. Loki smiled. Fury was just as much threatened by her as the British government. He couldn't beat her, she was too smart, so he opted to join her to the Avengers in the hope that their indomitable spirit for right over wrong would become infectious.

 _But they don't bother with me. I'm just their hunting dog._ He pouted imperiously and followed Irene back to his room. Why was he expendable, and she irreplaceable? He'd just have to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Loki had told her that sparring would clear mind. She was skeptical. Her way of calming herself was to be quiet and sit. Perhaps he sensed she was distraught. Being a prisoner in a strange land wasn't the best way to live, after all. At any rate, she found herself in the training room with the famed Captain and the Widow. The silk pajamas were suddenly very conspicuous. She hated to look poor when her companions were so well-dressed. Romanov's training gear was top-notch, and the Captain looked well in almost anything.

After a bout, they approached. "Here to spar?" the Captain asked. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents often came to train and work out their issues. The woman held out her hand for a strong handshake. Irene took it, but with little enthusiasm.

"Waiting for Loki."

"Oh," Rogers said. He busied himself with undoing his wraps, which took longer than it should have. He hadn't wrapped his knuckles in the Muay Thai style after all. In fact, he hardly needed them. Romanov was warmer than he. He was obviously uncomfortable with anyone being close to the god of mischief.

"Natasha. And you are?" Her accent was that of an American, but she was so precise with her sounds that she doubted it was her natural speech.

"Irene. Adler," she added, "current prisoner."

"I wouldn't say that," Natasha said. "Fury locked me up when he first met me too." This brought a wry smile to Irene's face.

"He didn't lock you up with an inter-dimensional felon, though." She held up her wrist, which was still glowing with her magic leash. Romanov had to concede that, at least. "What changed?"

"I see you've met; that spares me the time for introductions." Loki's smooth voice interrupted the answer, but was muted by the foam gym matting. He nodded at Steve and the Widow. "Captain, Romanov."

"Loki." She was respectful, but not affectionate. _Looks like I've been lumped with the outsider. I suppose nearly destroying the city warrants a little displeasure._ "Are you here to spar?"

"She is." He tossed her a dry-fit and black tights. "You don't mind if she borrows these, do you?" The repressed anger was evident in her voice.

"Not at all. In fact, I'll teach her." She motioned for Irene to go into the back room to change, unfazed by the tension in the room. She left gladly. It had already been too long since she'd been alone. In the back room, there was a mirror. In her battle dress, she had never felt more unprepared or more apathetic than she did now. It wasn't her battle dress any more. It was just her in the mirror, exposed, exhausted, and sad.

And to make matters worse, she was chained to the pariah of the group, an outcast by association. She held up her wrist and scratched at the gold runes tattooed on her skin, drawing blood, but still they didn't go away. Panic rose in her chest, irrationally, inexorably, and she clutched at the reflective surface before her for balance. Her breathing came fast and hard, but no oxygen gave relief to her lungs, and tears streamed from her eyes. _No, no, no_ …

She curled into a shivering ball on the floor and shut her eyes, trying to wipe the memories from her eyes, memories of iron manacles, stench, sweat, sharp things in her skin, vomiting blood and bile.

Then there were hands lifting her up, wrapping her in a towel. Gently, she was hung from someone's back, a slender, bare back, and mercifully, oblivion came for her and swept the memories away.

…

"It's time to get up," said a voice coolly, welcomingly. She listened, if only to regain awareness of her surroundings. The voice had an accent, and so did the next one.

"She is full of pain. Let me take it away," it pleaded. It was a female voice.

"I cannot," the first said. "We need to know what's happened to her." She groaned and stirred.

"Don't wake up," a third person said. "I haven't kissed you yet." The voice was familiar.

"Shut up, _bolvan_ ," said the second. "She does not want to be kissed, and she is not a comatose princess."

She opened her eyes to a kind, clear Asiatic face. "Hello. What is your name?" With enough clarity, she stated it, and the doctor went on. "You had a panic attack and fainted. Can you tell me what you saw?" Numbly, she shook her head and leaned to the side. Her temple felt bruised; she'd probably hit it on the mirror when she fell. "That's fine. Maybe later." The doctor retreated and Loki came close.

"You interest me," he whispered. His lips almost brushed her ear. She wanted to turn closer to him, but her rapidly-clearing brain bid her not to. "Beauty. Remember, you are my charge. You can tell me anything." She was able to swivel her head this time and swallowed. Her mouth was dry. "Are we clear?"

"As diamonds," she croaked. _But I won't tell you. My struggle is my own._

The second person who'd spoken, a woman strangely all in red, crossed her arms and cleared her throat. "Now that your lover's awake, care to let the doctor work?"

The doctor led the two out, saying they could come by during visiting hours, then proceeded to feed her better food than she'd ever had in a hospital and even busied herself examining her medical records for any risky history. Irene learned that her name was Helen Cho, a Korean ex-pat and skilled surgeon. Her soft, small face couldn't possibly have been natural, but that was how she acted.

"Do you know him?"

"Who?"

"Loki. You're attached to him." She pointed to the runes etched in her skin.

She laughed, which felt much better now that her throat wasn't dry and foul. "No. I was brought in on Fury's orders, and he is my watchdog." Her miserable cynicism surprised even the doctor.

"What, him? I thought he was a prisoner himself." This piqued her interest, though she tried not to show it. It was better than concentrating on her own sad self, at any rate.

"He seems free enough. Why does he stay?"

"Thor told me it's because he doesn't have an object of power to tear through this universe." _That can't be it. He's the trickster god, he does as he pleases. Is playing good his new pastime?_

She shrugged. The hospital gown was cool and papery on her shoulders. "Must be a god thing." Her eyes flicked to the magical manacle. It shimmered gently in the cold LEDs of the medical suite. _What is the point in being free? Once I thought I could avoid complications. Now I know it is in my nature to complicate things._ "When am I good to get out of here?" _'You interest me,' he said._

"Any time," said Dr. Cho. "Where will you go?"

"Good question," she answered. Then she sighed: "I should probably start trying to get my life back together." She scoffed, too: "What life? I'm a prisoner, and Fury has no reason to spend money on me."

"Every life is worth saving."

"Do you really believe that?" Dr. Cho closed the medical file.

"If I didn't believe that, I would not have become a doctor."

"And yet you're a doctor for an organization that kills more than it saves." This gave the woman pause.

"That was the old way. I have found my calling in the new way. Who do you think stitched Loki back together when he escaped from Asgard?" She tilted her head and smiled as if what she'd said was of little consequence. "Food for thought. Do you need anything else?"

A thought, small and frivolous, ran through her mind. "Yes, actually. Would you mind buying me some clothes?"

…

She stood in her new things in front of Director Fury's desk. It was his temporary desk, and files and crates of classified information were piled on either side of the table. In the centre of the room, she held her stance in new matte leather heels and a deep red business set that matched her chosen lip color. She felt rather like a professional.

Beside her, Loki crossed his arms, unimpressed. He was nearly a head taller than the director, after all, and at least ten times as strong. Neither of them had anything more to lose.

"Have you considered my offer?" It had been a full day before he'd seen her privately and offered her a spot among his best, with the same position Loki held. She would be part of his special force, not part of the Avengers, but part of the units that took on the impossible and won. "I'm here to tell you that your best bet is to take it."

"How do I know my life won't be at risk?"

"Like you care?" Loki was frowning. After spending two days watching her every move, he had learned several things: she wasn't easy to pry open, she was a confident and driven by self-preservation, and her wardrobe matched her mood: mostly black. He rather liked her. It would be a pity to see her dead.

"I don't, but I also don't want to be sent to my death. I want a say in how I die, if not in how I live." Fury grunted.

"Lucky for you, life and death are intertwined. Take the spot. I'd rather have you on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s side than not." Loki shifted his weight and gracefully cleared his throat.

"If I might have a say?" The director looked irritated, but allowed him to speak. He turned to the woman at his side. She was forced to look up at him, but this did not diminish her flinty expression. His eyes burned green into her own. "This is a thankless job you'll take. But if you love the thrill of the hunt, and the taste of victory on your lips…" He bent to whisper to her as he had in her hospital bed. "It is its own reward."

She smiled. _I could stand to get out a little, stretch my legs._ "I'll take it." She leaned over the desk and put on her most becoming smile. "What would you have me do?"

"Wipe that smarmy grin off your face and get to work," he ordered, moving away, obviously uncomfortable. "We've got a new problem in Wakanda, and I want you both on the field. Think of this as your job interview."

"On the field?" Agent Mariah Hill had just entered. "I daresay this woman is better meant for subterfuge, not a full-scale Mutate uprising."

Irene frowned, thin lips thinning further with displeasure. "I reckon I've fought with more mutants than you ever will. Don't test me." It was true, too. While in the Middle East, she'd fought the fanatic mutants who served ISIS. She'd survived, but not completely unscathed.

Agent Hill didn't look at her. "I know. I read your file." She turned to her boss. "How can you be sure she won't backstab us as soon as the tide turns?"

"If you read my file, you know I have no reason to. You want the perfect tool? You have one in me."

"Why?" Hill challenged. It was her duty to, as a loyal agent.

"The same reason you keep Loki here. I have no connections, and I have looked death in the eye," she reasoned, letting the dramatist within out to play. "Someone else has already done the dirty work, the breaking-in." She forced eye contact. "You'll give me what I need, because you need me. No one comes to me for help unless they're desperate." To her satisfaction, agent Hill had no ready reply.

"So you figured," Fury acknowledged. Loki was smiling, though she wasn't sure what for. "The Mutates will be looking for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, not you two. While I'd be just as happy to have Romanov on the case, she doesn't get along with the jokester over here. You two have obviously played nice, and I need people on the job."

 _He's overextended. There aren't enough loyal agents to keep the world in check, so he relies on the villains._

"Fury, she needs training."

"Talk to me when I have twenty extra bodies on the job and six months' furlough." Then he frowned more deeply than before. "If you think she needs training, take her to the simulator. Just remember that she beat American CIA naked with a riding crop and a needle."

Agent Hill huffed as she led them out of the office. "Fine. If he wants to send you on a death wish, let him." As they stepped into the elevator, she looked at Irene with a sort of sympathy. Then she glared at Loki. "I swear, Loki, if you let her die out there, I'll-"

"You'll what? Kill me? Make me wish I hadn't been born?" His languid stance against the wall belied nothing but the confidence of one who had seen death and duped it often. They reached their floor.

"Slimy bastard," Hill spat. "Be careful, Ms. Adler," she beseeched before she left. There was a pause as they exited.

"Well. It seems you've made a new friend," the god drawled. She smirked. He was an amusing fellow at times, and his expression now oozed charm.

"You're just jealous," she asserted. What was this lightness in her chest? Was it the thrill of the chase? _Just because he's interesting doesn't mean he won't kill you. He's only your ally for now._ "At any rate, I haven't eaten since yesterday. Are you hungry?" It wasn't a particularly suggestive question, but he was wonderfully reactive.

"Starving."

…

At breakfast (Stark had a surprisingly small kitchen; he didn't prioritize food), Irene contemplated her meal companions. To her left was Loki, of course, since no one else would actively seek her company. To her right was the Widow, who seemed to have taken a place next to her to make a point about female companionship. Mayhap she knew what it was like to give her body for the sake of information.

Just across from her, staring awkwardly into his plate was the ever-gracious Captain America, who was glad she was well, he said. To his left was Falcon, or Sam, as she learned his name was, who was also strangely quiet. Stark had taken the head of the table, and was also the only one with enough shamelessness to have a beer with his bacon and eggs. Dr. Banner seemed stressed about something, probably the fact that Quicksilver and Hawkeye had begun to flick pieces of cereal around the room like teenagers. _Charming._

The strangeness continued with a red man in a cape and the woman in her red dress conversing quietly over a diagram of some ancient spell or galactic map, and a man with a metal arm brooding over his orange juice. _This is a nest of strange bedfellows._ There was another foreigner with an unknown way of speech and a necklace of shells about his collar, and a young man, perhaps aged only twenty, who wore red and blue spandex and a mask to the table, and ate with his eyes covered. A military man, the well-known James Rhodes, sighed over the mess of his plate.

Thor entered with a rumbling stomach and a surprisingly happy disposition. "Well, brother, I see you've finally decided to take a female!" he bellowed, clapping them both on the back. Irene almost choked on her oats. "And what's this? You've already given her jewelry, brother?"

"No, Thor, I've handcuffed her."

"Is she your slave?" Loki would have punched him clear out the window if she hadn't spoken.

"No, you oaf, and don't touch me," she commanded. Her tone was so definitive that the big Asgardian backed away nervously. Then he grunted with approval. "I'm no one's slave, and certainly not his," she asserted.

"I like this one! You should marry!" Widow seemed to be cackling under her breath. Apparently this was something that happened often. And for its worth, it _was_ amusing how stupid Thor was compared to his brother. Irene's mouth twitched upwards. She hadn't bothered putting on her face today, but she was attractive and knew it.

"Come on, let's leave Dumb and Skinny to themselves. I'll introduce you to the others," Widow said, still cracking up. _He's not skinny._ "You might as well get familiar with them, since Fury's sending some of them with you tomorrow." She pulled her away from the one-sided squabble. "Don't worry. I was on a leash for some time too when I started working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I appreciate the thought," she said politely. "But I can manage without your platitudes." Widow pulled her sleeve back from her left wrist, the same one on which Irene bore her marks. A thinning white scar circled the flesh of the joint.

"It's not a platitude." Inwardly she winced. Outwardly, she looked away. Natasha sighed. "At the very least talk to Loki. I hear you two got on quite well despite having to share a room." _I'm glad she didn't assume we bedded each other._ "He's…not the best companion, but if you can befriend him, you can befriend anyone. And don't tell me you don't want to. It's for the best."

"Did Fury put you up to this?" The agent blinked.

"No." The kid in spandex waved at them and grinned. Or at least, she assumed it was a grin; his face was mostly hidden. She smirked. _I could stand to relax a little before entering a death-trap in Wakanda._ "What do you do for entertainment around here?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Black Widow's idea of entertainment was not in the least entertaining. It was brutal punishment, at least to Irene. Some of the crew had come to watch as Natasha Romanov dashed about a training room, armed with nothing but her own limbs, and struck small hovering robots to score points. She had to admire her precision, however. The Widow hadn't missed her mark even once since she'd begun. What disturbed her was the maverick smile she kept as she leapt and dodged and generally caused very controlled chaos.

Irene winced. Shouldn't the agent have been bruised all over by now? Or was she like the Muay Thai warriors that had hardened their bones and nerves against pain?

"Why did you agree?" Startled, she turned, heels clicking against the glassy floor. "You obviously don't approve of institutions. You were made to break the rules. Why would you let Fury make decisions for you?" Loki asked, a little upset.

"If I had something worthwhile to do, I wouldn't have come with you last night. If I had anything valuable left, I…" Her eyes stung. Kate, her best friend was dead, and with her had died the will to do anything. Her betrayal had hurt, but her death was worse. _No. I have to get on without her._

"You are like me." She looked up. He was smiling again, that smile that made her want to break his nose. "Tell me, Belladonna, do you truly believe you have nothing left? Or do you simply enjoy the hunt more than the complacency of a prisoner?"

With more strength than she knew she had, she lunged for him. If she'd been armed, she would have lacerated his pretty face to ribbons. She really hated being analyzed, propositioned. It was practically a catcall. While she had no purpose, she still had her pride. She could still hate, which meant she could still feel, and that surge of rage was the first thing she had really felt in a long, long time.

…

Loki chuckled gleefully as she flew at him. The tip of his jawbone smarted where she dug her claws in. It thrilled him to taunt a tigress, to edge towards danger and flaunt his immortality. In all his missions under Fury, all the times he was forced to hunt like a subservient dog, never had he been thrilled, touched, in such a way. No one ever attacked him without fear, not even his own brother.

She was hissing, growling at him with a rage more virile and genuine than he had ever detected from her. It was a good change from her depression, which had begun to leak into his own mind like a crushing glacier. He let her clutch at his throat, laughed as she rammed him against the wall with a heavy thud and kneed him soundly in the gut. _If she was playing, she would have hit me below the belt._

Then heavy arms secured her and wrenched her away. Loki was still breathless and grinning as the Winter Soldier held her fast by the wrists. The knee to his diaphragm had hurt, surprisingly. He strode up to her, grasped her chin as her anger-fired eyes bored boldly into his. "Oh, I like you." They were both breathing hard. "Pity you weren't born a giant- I would have _had_ you." At this, she nearly wrenched her arms out of joint, she was so frenzied. Thankfully those pretty arms were preserved by the soldier, who had enough sense to keep her limbs by her sides.

Barnes glared at him disapprovingly, but said nothing. "Oh, shut up, Snowflake, don't pretend you've never flirted before. And you," he said to Ms. Adler, "don't forget, you are my ward. I can restrain you, watch you, any time I like."

" _I hate you_ ," she snarled, "Talk big all you like, but you forget what I am. I can crush your will faster than you can crush my bones." Her words were so full of fire that for a moment, he believed her.

The ruckus had attracted the team members, including Widow, who didn't seem the least out of breath from her strenuous game. "All right kids, break it up. Wait until after tomorrow, then you can rip each other to pieces-" she noted how close their faces were, how intense their stares. "-or rip each other's clothes off, either one."

They turned their glares on her simultaneously. "Or not," she conceded casually, though Loki actually seemed more upset over the interruption than the scandalous suggestion. Natasha decided to change the subject. "The files will be sent up to your room. Since we're so short staffed, we're leaving most of this mission to you two. The old triskelion's satellites will be watching, though, so no funny business," she warned.

"You must be mad if you think I'll work with _him_ now," Adler growled. "Send someone else."

"There is no one else. The Avengers have business with a mutant uprising in Los Angeles, one that needs their full representation." Irene cursed. Loki just chuckled. Agent Romanov rolled her eyes. "Barnes, let her go. I need to talk to the _arseloch_."

He complied, and following with his returning memories of his gentlemanly upbringing, escorted the woman outside the training room. It was strange to think that the man who had turned her into a deadly assassin was now an awkward, silent veteran with impeccable manners. Then she turned to Loki, whose lingering smirk showed that he wasn't the least bit sorry. "Personally, I don't think this will work, but I might as well tell you."

"What, pray tell?"

"That woman is broken. She's on the edge of meltdown, and you could have shattered her. I don't know her, but I respect her, which is more than I can say of you." The god just 'hmmm'd and raised an eyebrow. "I swear, Loki, if you hurt her, I will sic the Hulk on you and I will let him destroy New York with your body."

"I don't doubt it, agent. However, your analysis of my effect on her is entirely wrong."

"How so?" _She cannot read into Irene Adler's mind. She does not know that I am piecing her back together._

"I give her motive. But what would you know, who finds it better to be depressed than incensed?"

"Well, better she be content, _cared for_ , than angry. Did that ever occur to you?" That stopped him short. Infuriatingly, he pretended she'd said nothing and stalked away. "You'd better get on that before she decides to kill you."

 _I cannot care for her. I know not how._

…

Lunch and dinner passed without incident as the other Avengers gave her a tour, and she was granted access to Stark's bar (or one of them, since there were quite a few scattered around the different rooms). Red wine after a light meal had been a staple for much of her life, and having some now gave her some sense of stability. She'd missed her ritual dearly while gallivanting about the world. Now, with the wine staining her thin lips over her ordinary lip stain, she thought life might even be pleasant.

After she finished her glass, she retired to Loki's room. She would have occupied some other room, but the other rooms were locked with scanners, probably as a new security measure. _I'll just have to lock him out, then._ She turned about as soon as she was inside to lock the door manually, but it was no use. Ever the pariah, Loki was already inside. She unlocked the door again and held it open.

"Get out."

"Why? It's my room." He approached slowly, casually, and as much as she hated to admit it, he looked ravishing in formal evening wear. _What's the occasion?_ She gripped the doorknob. "Why were you so angry?"

She gazed at him a moment in surprise. "You know why. Stop playing with me." Her jaw clenched as he touched her wrist, she drew away.

"I'm not playing." He stood tall, and she wondered if all Asgardians were proportioned thusly. "If I have to keep you, I want your stay to be voluntary."

"What do you care?" she queried guardedly.

"I know what it is to be shackled, to be in constant agony, never free. I don't wish it on you." From the haunted look in his eyes, she knew it was true, even if he was the god of lies. She had to look down, away from the scalding look. It was the closest anyone had come to an understanding compassion towards her in the past few years. _From infuriating arse to potentially not an arse…_

"You needn't bother."

"I know." His gaze drifted towards the nearby window. "Let us walk." He strode away a few steps, and the glowing manacle on her wrist tugged her towards him.

"Do I have any choice?" He turned around again, looking like he'd say something snarky, but it was not so.

"Would you like a choice?" The tugging on her wrist stopped.

"I would. And I would like all the other choices as well." He turned his back.

"So be it."

She chose to follow him then, pulling the long sleeves of her wrinkled blazer tighter as they ventured out onto a balcony. Stark's dinner inside provided menial background noise, glasses clinking and people chattering and laughing. A few years ago, she would have joined them, dominated them with wit and will.

Leaning on the railing, out in the wind, it was peaceful.

"Fury has sent you to die tomorrow. Does that not faze you?" She ran her tongue over her teeth, still tasting the last drops of wine.

"Better that than to live bored, or a prisoner."

He chuckled. "That's exactly what I said when they gave me the choice." Irene pursed her lips.

"I am not like you." He did not agree or disagree, though what he thought of her insistent declaration was a mystery. "What does Fury mean by this, sending us out there?" It was a genuine question.

"I'll tell you a secret that everyone knows." A look of bitterness passed over his features.

"Answer the question."

"Fury sends us out to protect his precious Avengers. They have faced horrors before, but nothing where they were not out of harm's reach. What they do is well within their abilities."

"And what are we?" He smiled his maverick smile.

"We are expendable. I am paying for my crimes, and you…" he murmured, edging closer, "…are paying for yours."

"Playing the model citizen doesn't suit you," she replied, a hint of a purr in her voice. Gentle flirting like this was comfortable, more comfortable than honesty. "You live for the hunt."

"And playing like you enjoy my company doesn't suit you. Unless you have forgotten I am your captor." The enchanted manacle tugged her even closer, and upwards until she was forced to touch her fingers to his. They were cold. "I can make you do whatever I want."

"My mind is still free," she defied. His laugh was true this time.

"I like you, do you know that?" She raised one arch eyebrow.

"So you've said."

"While I was admittedly less than courteous, I did mean what I said. You are nightshade, you are a beautiful woman."

There was a lull. Then: "I don't hate you." Her eyes flashed as he looked down in surprise. "But I _can_ crush your will."

"Challenge acce-"

A great crash and an explosion interrupted them, and the concrete under their feet trembled. "Sounds dangerous," Irene commented. Some strange, feral creature roared with rage.

"Sounds fun. I suppose your challenge will have to wait," he said, feigning disappointment. "Shall we join the party?" From a wisp of gold smoke, he produced a thin, strong rod with a leather handle that was not unlike her old riding crop.

"We shall. I'm eager to see what the Avengers deal with on the daily."

…

Agent Clint Barton was not a man easily surprised. He had been a criminal in a circus act, then an agent, then a husband and father. He had been a mindless tool of destruction as well, controlled by Loki and his Chitauri scepter. He had even fought off an alien invasion swarming from a hole in reality. So really, he should not have been surprised that Thor kept a pet bilgesnipe in his room.

Or that it was impervious to most of the Avengers' physical attacks.

Or that it now had Stark by the ankle and Spider-Man pinned under its scaly claws.

It seemed to be enjoying itself amid the chaos. There was Scarlet Witch, attempting to calm the monster with her red magics, but against a brute animal she was useless. Its antlers swung, and he had to shoot a net to keep her out of the way.

He was rightly surprised, however, when the new recruit, Loki's ward, stepped into the scene. Loki hadn't lifted a finger, which was unsurprising. The woman had in her hand a little rod, more of a switch or a dowel that glowed like sunlight (probably the sorcerer's work). Like an insect drawn to light, the bilgesnipe lumbered towards her. She crouched, almost frightened, but- he should have known Fury only recruited people with guts.

She stood her ground, even as the animal bellowed and frothed at the mouth, as its foul spittle misted her face. It was a challenge and a primal war cry. When it stilled in confusion that she did not quail, she struck out hard with the switch. The air hummed with energy as she wielded it, stinging the monster in the face until it was driven backwards, _whimpering_.

"Impressive, right?" The mild-mannered Dr. Banner bad caught him unawares.

Clint breathed out heavily. "I thought she was just a prisoner under our protection."

"I did a little reading up in her spare time. Her file is…interesting, to say the least."

"I know a little." The floor shook as Adler backed the beast into a corner. Its six legs crumpled as it submitted at last. "What's so interesting?"

The doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose. "She almost brought down Britain with a smartphone."

After recovering from the monumental piece of information, Barton had the wit to ask: "Almost?"

"Lucky miss, I guess. She'd gotten involved with one of the senators' relatives."

"Oh." He knew all too well that his family could be used as leverage against him. Then he looked at Banner. "Doesn't being out here raise your heart rate?"

He took a swig of coffee. "It's not a white hole. The big guy won't come out if the situation's obviously under control." He started making his way back to the reinforced lab from whence he came.

"Wait, doesn't caffeine raise your heart rate too?!" But the scientist was already walking away, and Thor had finally put a leash on his pet. Stark's robots were clearing the damage and repairing the area. In the morning, everything would be welded and sanded back together. Besides being a genius, he was also lazy: hiring workers in the morning would cost time and money. _Never mind, I'll just go and yell at Thor for a bit. He needs to get his animal under control._

…

As the dust cleared (rapidly, due to the tower's air filters), Loki clapped. It was a slow applause, but not a sarcastic one. Bilgesnipe were major pests in Asgard (who knew why his brother had ever wanted one), and sometimes required whole teams to subdue them. Irene Adler had beaten this one into submission with nothing more than a stick. She was standing there, breathing hard, with the light of victory in her eyes and a smile on her face. _Beautiful._

It had not been her physical might, but her dominant presence that defeated the monster.

The Avengers who had gathered for the fight were staring at her in amazement, and well they should, for she might be fully mortal, but she was a goddess in her own right. Sam Wilson pumped his fist and yelled. He hadn't had time to get his wings or even his pistol, and this woman, a captive and criminal, had single-handedly saved the day. Little by little, the shouts and congratulations grew, and they all converged on her. Her smile widened. _Of course it is nice to be appreciated._

And, as they surrounded her with their newfound welcome, Loki slipped back into his room. She'd get another place for her quarters now that the 'good guys' owed her. He could have forced her company, for she was more pleasant to speak to than anyone else, and the only company he'd really had in over a year. He didn't want to. _Her mind is still free. Let her choose them. What is it to you if she gives more time to her own kind than to an enemy of the gods?_

He closed the door, disrobed and cleansed himself, and closed his eyes. The mental link of the handcuffs buzzed in his consciousness, and despite his aversion to spying, he let himself wander in all her thoughts and sensations. Through her, he felt flashes of the warmth of acceptance, of friendship. He felt his brother clap her back and propose the last toast of the night. There was the Widow complimenting her technique, a starstruck Spider-Man, and the enhanced twins lifting her up on their shoulders. Stark was flirtatious as ever, and she was amused, but Loki was not. He could taste the champagne on her tongue.

She felt alive and young again.

Then he cut himself off. If she would not come to him of her own accord, what right had he to invade her mind?

He couldn't sleep, but the buzz and warmth eventually faded.

To his surprise, the door opened. _What is she doing here? Is this one of Fury's security measures?_ The bed compressed as she changed into more comfortable attire, the silk nightclothes, and pulled the covers over her drained form. _She said she would crush my will, and…perhaps that will be._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The flight to Wakanda was peaceful enough, since S.H.I.E.L.D.'s aircraft were state- of the art and hadn't been damaged by the collapse in New York. He hadn't spoken to her at all yet, despite their close proximity. The silence was stifling, and it seemed like she could tell he was troubled. The Wakandan prince T'Challa was accompanying them, to see if any compromise could be made before the melee began, but it was unlikely.

The prince's head was down. _What is it like to care about the pains of your people?_ Loki himself had been king once, but it had been more of a statement than a true reign. He had wanted the last laugh, and he'd gotten it, until that blasted Sif uncovered him and Thor made her queen by marriage. But to be fair, while ruling, he'd been a good king, just like Odin.

 _Nay, I remember what it is like to care._ His home had been destroyed and his people slaughtered before he was even old enough to remember it. To feel that he was neither of Asgard nor of Jotunheim had pulled him apart. And now this mortal princeling waged the same internal war, that of the Mutates he loved and the humans he belonged to.

"It'll be all right." The comfort surprised him. Irene was the first person to speak, which was unlike what he knew. She continued: "As long as you don't die and the world doesn't end, it'll be all right."

The only thing he said was "I could have prevented this," before getting up to talk to the pilot about how long it would be until landing. Loki wished he could do the same, but soldiers and agents were strapped in around him, making movement awkward at best. Gone were the days when he'd have blasted them out of the sky for being in the way. What was the point? And where would he go where he wouldn't be noticed? He was the son of the Fárbauti the striker and Laufey the slender tree, a giant of firestorms and glaciers and sorcery, born of lightning. He attracted chaos with his very being.

"What will you do after this?" he asked. The woman was surprised by his question.

"Why do you ask? I thought I'd made it clear I'd stay." _The word 'stay' has multiple meanings_. She could stay with S.H.I.E.L.D., she could stay with the Avengers, she could stay with him… _Inconceivable. Who wants to stay with this world's enemy and the other worlds' freak?_

He looked away, tempted to look into her thoughts, but respectful enough of her privacy not to. _Not only is she beautiful, she is intelligent and self-sufficient. The females of Asgard are not half so clever._ He realized then that he wanted this woman at his side, for however long she could be there. To so entice her, he cast several signs: gyfu (as it was a gift), tyr (for victory in battle), and bjork (for the beautiful woman and prospective mate). Anyone who had experience reading runes would have deciphered the shimmering purple blossom as a present inappropriate for a stranger, but what could she know? It was but a beautiful little spell in the shape of _atropa belladonna_. Of course, it wasn't a real love spell, but deep in his soul he hoped it would have the same effect.

He passed it to her without preface, avoiding eye contact. "What's this?"

"I hear it is traditional to carry a companion's tokens into battle here on Midgard." She smiled a little condescendingly.

"That was at least six hundred years ago."

He chuckled. "What, a mere blink and your traditions die? I would have been…about nine hundred then. A young man."

"And you are not young now?"

"Not young, not old," he answered airily. He watched from the corner of one eye as she tucked the purple blossom into the v-neck of her gear.

"You look about thirty-five. Like me." Their small talk had to come to an end, however, as the agent beside them cleared his throat. Clearly he was uncomfortable with their verbal affection. Loki was further charmed when Irene cheekily stuck her tongue out at the man, just to show she didn't care.

Still, she was not visibly affected by his token. After all, he had propositioned her. Twice. And she was a woman who did not easily love, he felt, especially not her captor. He eyed the flower tucked into her shirt.

The plane touched down in a sandy lot. It was bare- or so they thought. A look around the arid area soon revealed they had landed in a battlefield, with troops on both sides of them.

"Well," Loki said with a grim smile. "This looks like a fun party."

…

It was not a fun party, however. While Irene had hoped to see some action, to spur her being into self-preservation, it was not to be: T'Challa had met with the leaders of the two forces, and they had agreed to a summit scheduled for a fortnight later. For now, the ceasefire was held. And, as a gesture of trust, S.H.I.E.L.D. was now leaving these opposing forces to themselves. They were an advanced enough group not to murder each other after the compromise, they thought.

"You could have had any bed; why mine?" They were leaning against a tank's solid hull, out of the heat of the sun. This was the first he'd spoken in a while. The stillness of the land felt ready to burst, but still he conversed.

"I doubt you need me to answer. Do you think I didn't feel you roving around in my head last night?"

"My apologies." There was a pause.

"Apology accepted." And another. "I went back to your room because everyone else's was locked with Stark's pesky scanners."

"The ones he installed when S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to work from his earthbound castle? You could have asked me for a key. I am a sorcerer after all." He still wasn't looking at her directly, which meant he was insecure about something. She was finding that the best way to alleviate her own miseries was to focus on his.

"No need, as long as you feel no inclination to take liberties with me." _What makes this man tick? With his history, why would he choose to let me choose? He could destroy me on a whim solely by this chain that binds us._

 _Does he find me interesting, like a pet? I find him intriguing. After all, who else in the world gets to share a room with an immortal from another dimension?_ She swept a stray lock of hair from her forehead. The heat was beginning to leach moisture from her skin in the form of oil and sweat. She could feel his gaze on her like a cat on prey.

"I couldn't touch you. It is Asgardian custom never to touch a woman unless she so chooses."

"You've already violated that," she said in a rather snarky tone.

"Again, my apologies." Despite the gentlemanly tone, she was still sure he was less than gentle in most other aspects.

A buzz and then a voice over the comms screamed. It was one of the men, crying for help. Irene's heart leapt into overdrive.

 _"_ _Help me, please! Someone send backup!"_

She cursed and looked at Loki. He'd heard it too. "Where are you?" she said very clearly, ensuring he heard her. That question was answered by the sound of gunfire- the Mutates had no need of guns, being a feral, powerful people. It had to be the humans that had started the skirmish. Thinking quickly, she started running.

She didn't want to die, but she also didn't want other people to die. A cold hand yanked her back. "Hold, Ms. Adler." Loki was grinning. He obviously looked forward to the fight. Perhaps it was his Asgardian heritage taking hold. "I have a better way to get there."

She stared for a moment. "Do you have my riding crop?" With a flick of the wrist, he produced it. She swiped it from him, leaving the air hissing. "Thank you." He smiled.

"I knew you had the makings of a hunter in you." The smile was swiftly removed, and before even he could react, his cheek was burning. It wouldn't raise a welt due to his immortal nature, but it still hurt.

"Shut up." He grasped her arm and prepared to teleport.

"As you wish."

…

As much as the fight made blood pump hot in her veins, simply defending the Mutate chieftain from gunfire and huddling behind rubble and tables wasn't enough. Loki was fighting full force as well as he could with as much magic as he was allowed, and the agents were being forced into the defensive under the onslaught. He was allowed to use defensive magic only, redirecting bullets and occasionally wading into the fray himself while communicating to her why he did not simply eradicate the enemies with a single blow. _If I raise my hand in offense, Heimdall will transport me back to Asgard for reprimanding._

Irene was too busy to be impressed with Loki's handle on magic. After all, the unconscious bodies were beginning to pile up, and the stench of vomit and blood was beginning to induce her own nausea. The needles she was armed with were coated with poison, but she was running low and they were useless after a few uses. _Where are reinforcements? Did Fury send us here to die?_ She hadn't been allowed to carry a gun. They had come as a peacekeeping force.

 _This will certainly end in a political mess, if not a full-scale war._ The chieftain was looking out constantly, and thinking to save him from a bullet to the head, she yanked him back. He grinned at her. She did not like that grin. She thought back to Loki, _Who is this chief? He looks less than friendly. I have a feeling this is really his doing._ She turned away to stab another soldier in the leg. The poison was diluted, so she had to spar with him a few moments.

 _You would be correct. He is N'Jadaka, christened Erik Killmonger, Black Panther's rival for the throne._

 _Hmmm. I didn't know you were so informed about Midgard's political scene._

 _Royal rivalries hold a certain interest for me._

Distracted with their mental conversation, she failed to see a man with a gun creeping over the barrier. The gun clicked. She whirled about in fear. _I am going to die._

He pulled the trigger.

 _No, you're not._

And in a flash of light, everything disappeared.

…

After the initial dizziness wore off, she stood, still covered in dust and sweat. "Sorry again," Loki was saying. "The trip can be disorienting for some." They were in a golden room, domed and geared every which way, with light emanating from below. "Heimdall, good to see you, _old friend_." The way he said it told her that Heimdall was not a friend.

A gigantic hand, dark and callused, hauled her up the dais by the arm. Heimdall struck her as a very stiff fellow, with his bulging muscles and golden…everything. "You have broken your deal, Loki Laufeyson."

"Deal? That was extortion," he spat, dropping the facade.

"You have killed again. You have broken the law." Irene wished she was far away from this bridge's keeper. His voice vibrated the air around her ear, and it was _very_ uncomfortable.

"He saved my life!" she said, coming to his aid. It was if she'd never spoken.

"The Warriors Three are come to escort you." Somehow she knew she wasn't allowed to argue. With great clanking and whirring, the half-domed room slid open, and three men of varying sizes (one giant, one troll, and one goblin, in her eyes) pointed their weapons at Loki.

"Now, gentlemen, why such hostility?" Loki asked. Despite his words, she could see he was tense. "Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral," he said, nodding at each of them in turn.

"Shut your mouth, serpent," the one called Fandral said, brandishing his toad-sticker. "What have you done now that our king couldn't stop you?"

Hogun just narrowed his eyes. The largest of the three, who was probably fonder of eating than fighting, shoved his way in and bent down close to Irene. "We'll let Sif decide what to do with this one." He looked at Loki, then back at her. _Hmph. Maybe this one's smarter than he looks._ She instinctively covered her wrist. These people might not take kindly to her link with Loki.

Then she looked out at the rainbow bridge, the glassy, shimmering road that led into a golden citadel, dropping off on either side into oblivion. She had only heard of this place in stories and briefly in files and secret documents. Her mind reeled with the realization: _I am on Asgard._

The march to the citadel looked a long one, but due to the dimensionally stretched nature of the road, it was a short one. Irene felt they could have traversed the long journey and that perhaps the path had been shortened for her. "So, this is your old place?" she queried lightly.

"I supposed one could say that, yes." _Though it was never really my place_ , he thought back at her. Their telepathic communication was becoming more and more natural. It thrilled her, comforted her, but it also made her wonder if her mind would be her own again.

 _Why?_

 _Asgardians are distrustful of those who use magic instead of hand-to-hand combat._ He sniffed disdainfully, though she could tell he wasn't sincere. _Morons._

 _I'm sorry. It must have been hard growing up in a place where people don't understand you._ Before he could push her away, she shared with him her upbringing: a strict, unloving home life in New Jersey, her abandonment as she took to the stage as a singer, and her ruin as the media found that she was a dominatrix. Then she'd moved to the UK for a life undercover. _It was just so nice to know that someone wanted me for more than a trophy._

 _You know my story, don't expect me to pull your heartstrings now,_ he said drily. Well. Perhaps she'd said too much. The gates were opening anyway. Her eyes widened as warm air rushed to meet them, with the smell of ocean, greenery, and sweet perfumes.

 _Your old place is…nice._

 _You should see my ancestral hall._

 _You have an ancestral hall?_

She noticed, even with her eyes forward, that men and women and children had taken the time to watch them go by. Some were jubilant, toasting the Warriors Three for their catch of the dastardly trickster. Some were curious about the frail human's presence in the home of the gods. Here, in the jeering crowd she dared speak aloud.

"I see your stint as king and conqueror didn't end well." He replied with a smart-aleck smile.

"Oh, but I did Asgard plenty of good, didn't I, Hogun?" The burly warrior shouldered his mace in obvious discomfort.

"What did you do?" He was smug, but his upper lip was curled slightly with disgust.

"I prevented my idiot brother from becoming king. Before that, I saved them from their own foolish deals with giants, and I gave them their weapons and their beauty."

"You killed Balder and your spawn are our mortal enemies," Fandral argued back, unable to resist the baiting.

"My _children_ are the subject of your torture and humiliation," he snarled. _His children? I suppose he must have children. After all, he's millennia old. What have they done to hurt his offspring? I can see why he would hate these ignorant people._

The guards at the palace gate didn't bother to announce them. The barrier only swept open silently, disturbing only the air around them. They walked up the polished steps into a hall lit with both torches and sunlight, gilded and jeweled at every column and buttress and balcony. Irene couldn't help but stare at all the wealth. Just a chestful of the stones would have paid the U.S. debt to China.

At the end of the great hall was a throne, with great golden wings protruding from either side. _A bit overkill, don't you think?_

 _Hardly. While the throne is gold, it is only metal. It is they who sit upon it who are far more valuable._ From the way he said it, the queen might have been livestock to sell at market. They approached the throne, Volstagg behind and Hogun and Fandral on either side. Apparently, they would not break formation, even while she posed no threat. Of course, it was Loki who posed the real threat.

Queen Sif was most definitely not livestock. She was tall, sturdily built, and apparently wore battle armor to everyday functions. And she was very, very blonde, to the point where her hair almost blended in with the gold of the throne she sat upon. Her head was bare except for a dainty silver circlet. This was a small detail, however, compared to her double swords and gladiatorial shield. About her shoulders hung a gold-plated chain mail mantle that must have weighed at least several stone, yet she carried herself as if it weighed no more than the lightest silk. Irene felt that if the Thor himself had tried to strike her down, he would have found himself flat on his face with a blade at his neck. _But that won't happen, since he married her._

 _What are you doing?_ Loki was grinning a very conspicuous grin, the one she'd seem him use just before doing something reckless (insulting her).

 _The queen is not particularly tolerant of us outsiders, less so of people involved with me. Take care she knows naught of our link._ Then, with some timidity, Irene looked at her wrist. As she moved her fingers away, its gentle light vanished; but Loki was still in her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The wonder and beauty of Asgard seemed to counteract the bitterness she had against being used as an agency's hunting dog. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. could not reach her here. The air was fresh, free of earthly pollutants. So, with the air and sunlight warming her skin and filling her lungs, she did not bow to the Asgardian queen. Sif was a person like any other. Irene Adler did not believe royalty deserved more respect for their titles than their subjects.

"Loki. I assume you're here to pay for your crimes." Her dark eyes narrowed. "Who is this woman Heimdall brought along with you?"

"Merely a prisoner of war, your Majesty."

Sif turned her eyes upon Irene. They practically scorched her skin, they were so full of the law. "What is your name?"

"Irene Adler."

"Agent?" She was obviously acquainted with Earth's organizations, and recognized the S.H.I.E.L.D. attire.

Irene shook her head. "Prisoner and slave. S.H.I.E.L.D. took me in as a weapon." Queen Sif tilted her head. Her locks caught the light with a brilliant glare.

"She must be a dangerous woman to be captured and used." The queen extended a hand. "Come, sit with me." She couldn't look at Loki, but she felt he approved of her ascension as she approached. A servant carried a stool from a side table and placed it a step below the throne's platform. Irene didn't show it, but she didn't like that seat. She hated being below anyone. "You have my respect, Midgardian. At least, for now." _Why, thank you._

She said nothing, however. Sif turned her attention back to Loki and the Warriors Three. "I want him guarded at all times until a court can be assembled. Place him in the seidr-proof cell, and listen to nothing he says."

They pulled him away. He was grinning. It looked fake. "What will happen to him?"

"A bit of jail time before a trial. We have a verdict decided by more than thirty people. We aren't barbarians, you know." Irene knew what the verdict would be, though: guilty.

"And after the trial?" She did her best not to let her emotions show.

"Why do you ask?"

"An alien can't be curious about the culture she's been thrust into?" Sif did not answer the rhetorical question. She was probably smarter than her chosen mate by a good deal, hence her seat on the throne instead of his.

"If we decide him guilty, he will be an outlaw, returned to his people. He will be anathema to Asgard." _Who are his people? I thought he was of Asgard._ "It is the law that no one will assist him or associate with him. If other worlds take him in, so be it- but we are obliged to expunge him from every resting place."

Irene shuddered. She had been alone like that once, fighting the world in every country that was not her own. In some ways, she was still an outlaw: an international criminal with no hope of amnesty, except perhaps in obscure third-world counties…and other worlds. _It isn't so bad here. As long as I never face the law, I will be safe for the rest of my life._ And for her own reasons, she decided to stay in Asgard for as long as she could.

"So…your Majesty, might I take a peek around your great realm?"

…

Irene hadn't expected the queen to take her around the city personally. Perhaps she was patriotic, or perhaps she needed a break from being so queenly. Either way, they both relaxed as they exited the throne room and the palace from the back. Once the gold gave way to green and the clank of armor to the sweet strains of street musicians, Sif handed her circlet and metal mantle to an attendant just before they entered a well-tended garden. The golden gate (was everything gold in this medieval-biased place?) was closed, but it opened as they approached. No one dared question the queen and her human visitor.

The lanes outside the gates grew steadily narrower, as Sif travelled down a familiar but increasingly marginal route. To her surprise, the roads became dirty, tarnished, even a bit seedy. The various edifices diminished to mere hovels in some places, and when taller structures blotted out the sun, the smell of rot and damp undercut the relative splendor with the familiarity of the underground. _I suppose every city must have its slums_ , she thought to herself, though she said nothing aloud.

"I know; taking you to through the underbelly seems contradictory for a proud queen." Startled, she looked up. Sif's rich clothes and shining armor clashed with the grey filth on the walls and ground. The sky was as brilliant and cloudless as it had been, but the sun had moved somewhat.

"Then why show me this?" It was against all her expectations of Asgard to have an impoverished sector like this.

"I want to show you that even if Loki were innocent of all wrongs, his trial would be lost from the start." Her blood ran cold at this. She had seen awful things, justice gone wrong even in her birthplace, but never a rigged game. _He's a bit of an arse, eyeing me and getting into my head, but he doesn't deserve to be an outcast here. He's done little to harm Asgard._

 _But I have hurt Midgard. Dear brother Thor didn't like that._ She was a little annoyed that he'd broken in on her like that, but she still replied.

 _It's not you; it's the principal of the thing._ Irene could almost hear his playful tone.

 _Liar._ He knew she'd grown a little attached to him and couldn't hide it. At the same time, he was affectionate enough to tease as he now did- something she was sure he never did to anyone else, at least not within her lifetime.

 _Look who's talking, god of lies. Now don't interrupt; the queen's attempting to lecture me._

 _Very well. Come and visit me later._

 _I will,_ she said without thinking, and immediately regretted it. What if she couldn't visit? He was probably locked up in a cold, bare cell somewhere. She shook the thought from her mind to focus on the present.

"Do you know how Asgard came to be?" Sif touched the stone, and through the grime it seemed to shiver at her fingertips, alive with a dormant energy.

"Your people did not build it?" This came as a surprise to Irene, but on second thought maybe a warrior race wasn't quite smart enough to invent inter-dimensional travel and nanotechnology that looked like magic.

A savage-looking urchin raised a long, curved knife over his head, murderous intent in his eyes. Before Irene could cry out, Sif had sidestepped the would-be killer and knocked him to the ground. The man whimpered and shielded himself with dirty hands. Sif knelt and held out her hand in a gesture of forgiveness. The man didn't take it. Instead, he gathered himself and ran.

His skin was pale, almost translucent, and he had a glow about him- faint, flickering, but there all the same under his rags. His features were fine, thin-boned, and his stature was small. He wasn't like other Asgardian males. He had no bulging muscles or facial hair, yet his eyes were old.

He reminded Irene of Loki. _Are you seeing this?_

 _Of course I am._

 _Who was he?_

 _A Vanir._ She didn't get to dwell on it, however. Sif was running her fingers through her hair, sighing like the wind.

"My people have done a great disservice to the Vanir tribe. I suppose as Odin's kin we were doomed to ruin others and ourselves."

"What do you mean?" Sif started walking again, towards where the alley ended in the same warm sunlight that currently was so lacking.

"We call him the Allfather, yet he has destroyed far more than he has created. When the giants became numerous and only he and his two brothers were Aesir, he destroyed Ymir and an entire race save two."

"Why?"

"What happens on Midgard when a small group feels threatened?" Her mind flashed back to the Mutates, cornered and fighting for a chance to rule Wakanda. It wouldn't be long before they overran the place if S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't intervene. "The giants were once a great civilization. Now they lie in a frozen wasteland covered with the blood of their ancestors. Only I and the eldest Aesir were taught of our origins. When Odin found he couldn't rule as a tyrant, he remade himself in the image of a leader and father."

Irene let out a low whistle. "And you wonder why they don't like you."

"Oh, it's worse still," Sif said, laughing low in her throat. It wasn't a joyful laugh. "In our own greed, we used the Vanir's sorcery for gain, and blamed them for the resulting divisions in our family. Our war was bloody and long, and when at last it was ended, we assimilated them. But magic and warfare never mix well." She gestured around her at the shoddy hovels and the muddy ground. "The Vanir are a marginalized people, shunned by untrusting Aesir. It is a clash of values as well as history, for they are refined and intelligent, and us Aesir are simple, lovers of the fight and feast." The queen shook her head. She was a seasoned warrior, but this sorrow bowed her head. "They built this city and this is how we have repaid them."

Irene grimaced. "Your people could learn a thing or two from Earth. As much as there is conflict, there are people willing to change." She hardly believed it herself, but a simple race division couldn't be so hard to bridge. Even the stodgy, stubborn U.S.A. had managed to overcome that obstacle.

"Things aren't so simple when everyone lives for millennia. You humans can change so quickly, die so fast." Then she remembered what the original subject of the history lesson was: Loki's trial.

"What does this all have to do with Loki?"

"Loki-" Just then an image of Loki fizzled into existence. His green and gold robes were unfamiliar to Irene. She could only stare. She knew it was an illusion, but he looked…well.

"Now, no need to tell her what I could tell her myself." Sif pursed her lips and sneered.

"I'll not have you deceiving an innocent." The mirage clucked.

"Why, just a moment ago you were describing me as a victim! And believe me, she is far from innocent." His eyes ran over her with an unnervingly real delight.

"You, unlike the Vanir, have proven yourself untrustworthy. Begone!" She sliced the hologram in half. It grinned toothily and melted away. The warrior queen sighed. "He was never like the Aesir he was raised with. We have twisted him into an evil thing, but an evil thing he is."

Irene ran her tongue over her teeth. _I think I'll see that for myself, thanks._

Loki's smugness reached across their link. _I knew you'd like me eventually._

 _Shut up. It's only that I don't think anyone deserves to be an outlaw, as she put it. It's an awful life._

 _It certainly is_ , he agreed. He seemed to know something more than she. _At any rate, feel free to visit me down in my cell. It's actually quite comfortable._ This was sarcasm: from the image he flashed her, she knew it was a dark, cold place, with tight bonds and a muzzle to prevent him from casting seidr.

 _Hm. Kinky._

 _You are such an optimist_ , he drawled. _Best catch your tour guide before she wanders off._

 _Of course. By the way, what did you do with my switch? I do love that little thing._

…

After a walk through an open air market, a stop for lunch at a tavern, and a clothes shopping trip (Sif was obviously in want of female companionship and Irene thought it advantageous to oblige), Irene was being guided by Loki's instructions. Currently she was deep within the dungeons, flirting with a guard. Without her crop or the advantage of seidr, all she really had was her mind- but she was sharp enough to get into a heavily guarded room.

Loki watched her activities through her own eyes. She was talented with manipulation of the mind and the body. It didn't take much, simple-minded as the guards were. Within a few minutes, they would have done anything for her. The engraved stone doors cracked open, and he saw what had, in part, allowed her deception. In her eagerness to win over a female compatriot, the queen had dressed Irene Adler from her pale feet to her dark crown.

And she was magnificent. She'd donned gold and jewels, let her hair flow loose. The neckline of her red tunic was a bit too loose, but that was no flaw.

 _Stop your lechery, I'm trying to act._ He could feel her faltering. After all, he looked awful. He couldn't cast seidr, so he was as blue as the ocean in his true giant form, with ridges and scars all over. His hair was quite mussed, and his captors hadn't even allowed him to tie it, so it hung in his eyes like rags. Her eyes travelled over him. Her face was proud and a little sadistic, but her mind was sorrowful.

 _Why?_ She almost couldn't believe this was him.

 _Because this world is a cruel place for tricksters._ Without warning (just to make the situation a little more realistic), he bared his teeth and lunged at her like an animal, forcing her to step back. His breath was icy. The guards chuckled at her fright. She turned away, but not before she saw the fine welts lining his lips, pale against the deep blue of his skin, almost if the flesh had been…punctured. And for a second, there they were, heat and cold, light and dark.

The guards roared as she ran out in apparent fear. _A fine act_ , he said a little vindictively.

 _I'm not afraid of you._

 _But you don't like what you saw._ She couldn't say anything in reply. He had always wanted to be bigger and stronger. Then, when he discovered his true form and was scarred further by altercations and the aftereffects of his endeavors, he hid himself. And when she refused to reply, she confirmed what he already knew: his form was hideous.

 _Now do you see why I am outcast?_

 _Confidence is everything, you know._ This response bewildered him. She was hurrying up and down the halls towards the library, one of the least used places in the city, and one of his favorite.

 _Do you mean that if I was confident, you would not mind my ugly nature?_

 _I mean that confidence is beauty._

 _You Midgardians are truly strange._ When she didn't reply, he kept talking. _What will you do now? The day is almost done, and the evening feasting will begin._

 _I want to know what you are. You didn't feel the need to begin explaining, so it's clear that you won't tell- but as long as you're in my head, I will have the truth._

 _You could have asked. There's a reason I asked you to visit, you know._

 _Besides ogling my breasts in this ridiculous getup, you mean?_

 _Yes, besides that. Though I must say, your figure is a delight._

If she could have slapped him then, she would have.

She stopped a maiden on her way with a hand on her shoulder. The maiden, startled, shrugged the hand away. Her lips moved, and there were sounds coming out, but Irene couldn't understand. It sounded like Icelandic, or some other far northern dialect.

"Pardon?" Then the girl spoke again, and she could understand. _I've heard of this. This is Allspeak, the universal language. The other must be the true Aesir language._

"You're that mortal!" This took her aback.

"Isn't everyone?"

The girl shook her head disbelievingly, backed away, and ran. _What?_

 _It isn't good for your reputation to associate with me. And yes, technically speaking, we are immortal if we consume Idun's apples._

 _Are you going to tell me why you called me to see you? Or shall I go again and beat it out of you?_

 _Idle threats_ , he affirmed. _You couldn't hurt me. You wouldn't._ The truth of his words reverberated within her. She could not hurt him because he had already been hurt. Anything she did besides that was child's play.

 _You couldn't hurt me either_ , she asserted. _I gave up my life and my identity to Fury, since there was no reason to keep it._ She reached the library doors and pushed. They swung open on hinges that never rusted. The library was obviously not often used. Some tomes there had to be thousands of years undisturbed. Of course, they were Aesir books, not Vanir, for if there was Vanir literature they would not have been marginalized. Loki was keeping track of her thoughts.

 _Even if there were books, the Vanir would have been distrusted still. Asgardians are small-minded and intolerant of people who do not share their ideals._

She was tired of having his commentary, so she snapped. _Get out of my head! Or at least shut your mouth, you're tiresome and you say anything but what I want to learn!_ He went completely silent then. She could still feel the bond, that had not been undone, but it was almost as if he wasn't there.

She found looked around the cryptically labelled sections and wished she hadn't snapped at him. For all her intelligence, she couldn't read Old Norse.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As Irene had suspected, there were no Vanir books in the library. There were histories of Asgardian conquests over them, the dark elves, the giants, the dwarfs, and even Midgard in ancient times, all colorfully illustrated in the tomes she had pulled from the dusty shelves. Of course, since she couldn't read the runes, she had no idea whether they were all fact. She could have been examining fiction, and she would never know it. Asgardians didn't seem to be big on reading at all, let alone for enjoyment.

"Not many come to the library," Sif said from the great doorway. Irene jumped, then masked her surprise. Obviously the queen would find her, it was hard to miss her with her mortal proportions and language.

"Your Majesty. I thought you would be with your warriors, celebrating Loki's capture."

"I know him too well to celebrate when he has nothing to lose. He's plotting something." Then Irene knew that since Loki was currently locked up in a cell, she was the queen's prime suspect. And for all she knew, he might very well be plotting. She could not explore his mind as he could hers.

"Well, I suppose he _is_ the trickster god…" she said diplomatically. "I wouldn't doubt he has some dastardly plan up ahead." Sif was somewhat satisfied by this answer, but she wasn't done.

"How do you know him?" Irene began to weave her lie from half-truths.

"We are both enemies of Midgard, one way or another. Fury put us together." She scowled, laying out the bait. The warrior queen took it eagerly. She must have been looking for something to incriminate her alien guest.

"You are not pleased with the arrangement?"

She laughed bitterly, throwing herself into the act. "Who would be? He's a lying, lecherous murderer with no respect for anything but himself. We were in honest battle and he slew an enemy that was rightfully mine, just to keep the glory for himself," she fumed. _This way, if she asks Heimdall why we're both here, it will sound like the truth_ , she thought at Loki. Hopefully he was listening in, but if he was, there was no indication of it.

"And truer words were never spoken," Sif agreed solemnly. Then she shifted her attention to the books, now that she thought she had Irene in her grip. "What are you looking for? You have far more books out than anyone could have read in this past hour." She approached the gigantic reading table where Irene had set out the various books and scrolls.

Each book was turned to one illustration or another of battles or births or deaths. "I have been looking for your written histories, but of course I can't read your language…" She gave a melodramatic sigh. "And I must have something to do. As your prisoner, I cannot leave."

Sif raised one golden eyebrow. "You are practically free here in Asgard. I have given you garb and shelter. You consider yourself imprisoned?"

"I consider myself honest enough to follow the laws of a world not my own. If I was innocent, Heimdall would not have brought me." _Hopefully she thinks me stupid and docile._ Thankfully, her true reason for staying remained hidden, for the queen found her reply amusing. Her full mouth quirked upwards in half a chuckle.

"You make a fair point, mortal. If you wish, I can send you an interpreter tomorrow before I gather the jury for Loki's trial." Irene masked her alarm. If they executed Loki or sent him to whatever barren world they deemed fit, how would she return to Earth?

As much as the people of her world disliked her, Earth was her home. Earth was where she would rebuild her life, eventually.

"Thank you very much, your Majesty!" she said as enthusiastically as she dared. Her act had to sound real. Then she could think her way out of this mess and return to her world.

…

After a round of feasting with Queen Sif (she didn't touch the liquor, or it would have made her blackout drunk with one swallow), Irene was shown to her rooms by a rather nervous-looking palace maid. She rather pitied the mousy girl, always cringing when someone called to her, always afraid. Then she frowned. There had to be some reason for her fear. With a start, Irene realized she must have been afraid of her own mortal self. She had adopted the typical warrior boasting, regaling the enamored males with tales of her battles with soldiers, leaders, and even Thor's pet bilgesnipe. They had gobbled her stories even more greedily than they gobbled the giant roast boar and tubers. The only female among them was the queen.

 _It seems not everyone is as stupid as the warriors. She knows I am dangerous._

She almost- _almost_ \- sighed with relief as another voice sounded in her mind. _She does, but she will not reveal anything to your disadvantage. No one will listen to her._ Before she could stop herself, she smiled.

 _You're not angry with me?_ she asked, telling herself she only cared because he was her ride home.

 _On the contrary, my vixen_ , he crooned. If he had been there in person, she was quite certain her knees would have gone weak. _I admire how you've played all of Asgard's notables into your hands. I doubt Sif will question your honor. She may even call you as a witness against me._

Then Irene remembered something more significant to their situation as she undid her high braid and languidly rolled her shoulders. _I heard you were locked in a magic-proof cell. How, then, can you communicate with me?_

 _Our little bond is stronger than the insulating spells._ She could feel he was pleased with her quarters, that she would be comfortable with the lavish bed and other furnishings. She could also feel that he was smug that she accepted her shackles now (she hadn't, really- she was biding her time until she could free herself). She set her solid gold hairpins down on what she assumed was a vanity, with an enormous mirror and candles waiting to be lit. Moonlight and a rose-scented breeze poured in from the arched, ceiling-length windows and open balcony.

 _And what of that mirage you sent to greet the queen and I?_

 _I have my ways_ , he said, oozing charm. _By the by, I enjoyed that little show you put on for everyone in the feasting hall. I never placed you as the sort to bellow and tear into meat like a beast._

 _An act, I assure you._ Her fingers toyed with the straps of her dress. If she undressed now, would it matter? He had already seen her in the nude. How much power did he have over her? He could not force himself over her with her own mind.

She closed her eyes and felt her way to the drawer handles on the vanity and pulled one open. It felt like the softest cotton shift. _What are you doing?_

Irene ignored him, and, keeping her eyes tightly shut, slipped out of her golden gown into the shift. She opened her eyes. It covered her from her collarbone to her wrists and all the way to her ankles. On an Asgardian woman, it would have been calf-length, but she was content enough with its fit to close the drawer and leave her dress on a nearby table. _Ah_ , Loki realized. _Now that you've an objective, you wish to preserve your modesty._

 _Nudity would not serve me well in this situation_ , she explained coolly. _Surely you understand the importance of dressing for the occasion._

 _And what occasion is that?_

She pulled back the impossibly cushy sheets and blankets and wedged herself underneath them. _Sleep._

Just before she drifted off, she felt, rather than heard him sigh.

…

Loki could not sleep. He was chained in such a position that left him hanging, unable to lie down or even sit. It was a tiring position, with his wrists pulled away from his body and his legs unable to touch. Still, he had endured far worse before, and one night in a cell was child's play, magic-proof or no.

He could see the spells woven into the walls and into his bonds, glimmering in many colors. As a half-giant, he could detect these things. And as a half-Vanir, he had command over them. After all, his predecessors had built Asgard and all its magic. A few insulating spells did little to interfere with his abilities. Because they were Vanir spells, he could bend them to his will.

Still, he could not let the guards know that he could have escaped at any time, so he reverted to his deep blue, scarred, true form, and played like the shackles, hunger, and sleeplessness hurt him. He still had to retrieve Ms. Irene Adler from her house arrest. _I could flee now, to Helheim. I'm not an outlaw there, and the weather is good. My daughter Hel will welcome me._ Then he frowned. He did not want to live out the millennia shepherding the dead into their respective afterlives. His half-corpse daughter would not appreciate his standard mischief when he became bored.

He ran his mind over his options. Jotunheim was out of the question, as was Svartalfheim, for both peoples would hunt him like an animal for his crimes. Muspelheim was far too hot for his liking, and likely for Irene's. _Since when did you care about her comfort?_ a voice inside asked, but he ignored it. Niflheim was practically a deserted world, with nothing to subsist on but ice. Ljossalfheim was a close ally of Asgard, and they would return him to his captors. That left only Vanaheim, the world most of the Vanir had travelled to after the Aesir conquered Asgard. As a half-breed, he would be tolerated, but not welcomed.

He had been there, once, searching for his Vanir sorceress mother Laufey. His father Fárbauti, the king of the ice giants, was a cruel individual, more so than himself. He was an abuser, a line that Loki had never crossed and never would. This was why, when he discovered his true heritage, he was ashamed.

As a giant among the Aesir, he believed himself privileged. After all, Odin himself had taken him in. He was allowed any and all liberties, the best teachers of magic and combat, even a common law marriage to the giantess Angrboda. All that ended when his children were born. With each one born, Odin, Thor, and every other Aesir grew more and more estranged. After the third one, Angrboda left him, frustrated and tired of bearing mutant children. He knew then that he must have Vanir blood in him, for no true giant produced beasts for spawn.

From then on he suffered derision and abuse for his offspring. They were locked away and banished to other worlds. He did his best to assist those of Asgard in his peculiar ways, tangling with dwarfs and giants to attain great beauty and prestige for his adoptive people, even going so far as publicly humiliating himself at his most desperate. His only reward was to have the child of his own body ridden away as a beast of burden.

At last, when Odin could stand his antics no longer, he gave Loki a wife: Sigyn. She was a demure, shy creature who loved him beyond her own life. As a despairing, depraved, disowned man, he loved her for her grace and gentility, and most of all for her forgiveness. But his own restless nature ruined that for him even after the birth of their beautiful, ordinary Aesir sons. He tricked Hod into killing the golden boy Baldur, and in order to give his daughter Hel some small measure of happiness and love, prevented him from rising from her domain.

The people of Asgard could not abide this last piece of mischief. They wove spells against his sons, turning one into a wolf to eat the other. He still remembered the stink of blood and gore as Vali, in the form of a mad canine, ripped into Nari's abdomen. He could still feel the squelch of Nari's intestines wrapped about his wrists and ankles, the venom of the snake dripping into his eyes.

Once again, Sigyn was his salvation. She did all she could to make him comfortable. She sacrificed herself, insisted on taking his place by way of irreversible spells. The last time he had truly sobbed with grief, it had been over her as she endured the venom flowing over her immortal skin, torturing her until the world ended and a new cycle began. She had never been reborn, and he knew why: she had been created by Odin and Frigga, not born. She had only been a shell, not part of the world cycle.

Loki shook his head back to the present. He needed to escape, not wallow in sadness. _They will not risk keeping me on Asgard. They will not send me to Hel, as she is my daughter. They cannot rightly send me to any world whose people would kill me, and they will not send me to Midgard again because that is where I would choose to go. Vanaheim is too comfortable to be punishment._

They would send him to either Muspelheim or Niflheim- more likely Muspelheim, since giant-blooded individuals like himself preferred cold over heat. _I can't have that- the heat would burn the mortal alive._ But then, Niflheim was a world of ice and impenetrable mist. _It will have to be Niflheim then. To her, it will be uncomfortable but survivable._ And what did he care? She was fascinating and intelligent and attractive as he had not felt in centuries.

She could stay in Asgard if she pleased. After all, as a criminal on her home world, there was limited freedom if any. He did not know if she wanted to stay safe. He did know that she wanted to be free. He knew from roving her thoughts that she wanted to return to her home.

As he thought on these things, a plan formed in his mind- one that would leave them all scratching their heads as he disappeared.

…

Irene had washed, dressed, and was quietly breakfasting in the library when a messenger came to her and her translator. The messenger did not deliver his news via Allspeak. In fact, he scowled at the mortal woman and said something to the translator in Norse, refusing to cater to a foreigner. The woman scowled back, chewing slowly on a slice of dense bread and cured meat. She would not be intimidated by anyone, let alone a racist.

When the messenger left, the translator, a tall, bookish-looking man in dark blue, bowed his head to look at her. He was nice enough, she supposed, for a stranger. She swallowed the rest of her roll, wishing she had her makeup kit with her. It put a hitch in her routine to skip makeup.

"My lady, Loki's trial is to begin shortly. Would you care to be present?" His manners were far removed from the brutish handle of a warrior.

Pretending to be meek, she nodded. "I would, if only to see an enemy of Earth punished."

"This way." He strode out with his long steps and she walked quickly after him.

 _What plan have you in mind?_ From the feel of his thoughts, she could tell he was thinking hard.

 _When I signal, you must reveal our link._

 _What? I thought you said it would be dangerous to do that._ They were headed back to the throne room, where she assumed the jury would be assembled.

He seemed to give a long suffering sigh. _Do you wish to return to your home?_ He jolted her with that. She was a criminal on Earth, but she missed it already. She missed the smog, the bustle of cities and vehicles going by, the familiar complications of politics, war, and people. Even if she would never admit it out loud, she was homesick.

 _I see. Unless I reveal your manacle, they will banish you to some hole in the corner of the universe and I will never be able to go back._

 _I realize you resent your lack of free will, but at this time, it is your only chance at freedom._ More than a little smugly, he added: _You had best obey me, mortal._

She thought ahead to after their escape from Asgard. _And you had best watch your silver tongue, or I'll thrash you when I get the chance._ His mental laugh was quite stimulating. He knew she wouldn't really hurt him when he was her only way home. Irene had to admire how he had maneuvered his way into the dominant position. She would get back at him later.

For the moment, she complied with his plan. Whatever he had in mind, he did not share it with her. Perhaps there were sorcerers present that might reveal their link, but for whichever reason, he closed his mind to her as she entered the throne room and took her place at Queen Sif's side, as her majesty beckoned her.

 _This had better work, or we're both as good as dead._ There was no reply.

The audience, judge, and jury fell silent as a squadron of armed guards dragged Loki into the room. His wrists were still bound, and his ankles were hobbled so that he could do little more than shuffle. The luxurious robes she had seen on him in his mirage were gone, replaced by prison rags. He did not look at her, but down, as if he had been beaten.

When he at last raised his eyes to glare at the queen, Irene shivered. His eyes were the color of fresh blood.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

If Sif was afraid of him, she didn't show it. She did swallow visibly, however. Before her was the individual who had turned his back on Asgard, invaded Midgard, and attempted to destroy his home realm of Jotunheim. He was shackled, muzzled, and placed under heavy wards to prevent him from casting his magics.

He was pitiful, and yet… The queen glanced at the human beside her. This Irene Adler was supposedly a dangerous woman, yet she was not a warrior. She had seemed more than honest- honorable, even. Sif rather liked her, for though she had not the strength of a fighter, she had the spirit of one.

Heimdall was not present, for he could not abandon his post at the edge of the world. Still, it would have been easier to conduct the trial if he were there. He was all-seeing and could decide the verdict in an instant. _But fairness is what will condemn Loki Laufeyson, even as unfairness brought him here._ Sif prided herself on fairness.

"Let us begin." She diverted her gaze from Loki's red irises. "I have gathered you all here for the trial of the accused: Loki Laufeyson." At this, a disapproving grumbling sounded through the audience. "I know that some of you believe this trial unnecessary; but I exhort you to consider that without the due process of law given us by the Allfather, we are no better than Loki himself. This affair is in the interest of custom and above all, fairness." The complaints died down. "Besides," she added, "it is impossible that the verdict be anything other than what this traitor deserves."

A few of the men roared with approval. Beside her, Irene Adler shifted her weight from one hip to the other. Perhaps she was anxious for this to be over.

"Now, who has witnessed Loki's deeds from the beginning?"

…

Many witnesses had been called, all of them attesting to the destruction of Asgard's palatial buildings, the loss of life in the aftermath. Some travelers passing between planets had seen him speaking with the Chitauri leaders just before the invasion of Midgard. All these were removed from the actual destruction, indirect victims. Loki found himself tiring of their chatter. Of course Sif would go out of her way to gather an impartial jury.

 _My brother should be here any minute_ , he thought to the woman. Irene showed no sign of surprise. Her act was perfect.

 _He will sway the situation in your favor?_ she wondered.

 _Of course. He would risk angering his wife, but the king of Asgard has a significant say in all matters if he chooses. He has never failed me before._ A swirl of emotion came from her mind to his: curiosity, amusement- endearment. He scoffed. _Stop that. I only mean to take advantage of his unwavering belief that I can change._

 _But you have._ He didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject.

 _When he arrives, since he couldn't bear to miss his dear brother's trial, you must reveal our link._

 _Ah, yes, your glowing handcuffs_ , she retorted. It would be easy for him to control her deeds, but her mind was yet her own. She hated the loss of her freedom as much as he hated himself. He would have to rectify that later.

As much as he liked her, she would not flourish in his hold. After all, he was a frost giant; he killed everything he touched. So, he took a risk.

 _Why should I free such a clever pet as yourself?_ He could almost feel her smirk.

 _You need me, because when I show that I am cuffed to you, you can threaten that if they hurt you, they'll hurt poor little innocent me. You need me more than I need you._ Her tone was more malicious than innocent. For now, he would let her use him. She wanted her home as much as he did. The difference was that she knew where her home was.

 _You are correct_. Then he smirked inwardly himself. _You do know that I can cause you horrible pain, don't you? You best do as I say._

She challenged him in a way that had nothing to do with the trial or their escape plan. _Make me._

There was a fanfare of trumpets as Asgard's king arrived. Sif stood suddenly, startled. A flush rose to her cheeks, the last remnants of her upbringing as a noble maiden. "Thor!" The crowd bent the knee, including Irene herself. She had to pretend humility before Thor, even if she thought he was an ill-mannered oaf.

 _I suppose she dispenses with their titles now that they share a bed._ Irene's quick-witted comment amused Loki, but he kept his face blank.

Thor was a serious person in Asgard, quite unlike his boorish self with the Avengers. He was the king, and he carried responsibilities that he didn't care for. His voice boomed through the hall. "Sif, my queen-" There was a plea on his lips that the queen was clearly displeased to hear. "-I have received the word of the hour from Heimdall." Her rouge-darkened lips pressed into a line.

"You have a challenge against the premise of this trial, _my king_?" Loki nearly snorted. It sounded as if she gritted her teeth to call Thor her king, even though they were equals. Clearly she disliked having to rule Asgard alone while her husband gallivanted about with mortals. He added to Irene's earlier comment. _Perhaps they won't share a bed for a while yet, not while she is angry with him._

 _No_ , she replied _. He's been away for too long. She will_ have _him despite their disputes._ The way she thought the word 'have' directed his mind towards a sweeter, more pleasurable place than the one where he now stood.

Then he remembered that he was still exposed, still in his frost giant form. This made him think. Could she really flirt when she saw him this way?

Thor was arguing something again. "I, too, will give witness!"

"The witnesses have already been called, Thor, I will not have you disrupt justice!" The room grew even more tense. There had been rumors of royal arguments before, but they had never been public with their issues. As much as Sif loved her husband, and he, her, it was their nature to be contrary.

"Would you deny the witness of Heimdall the All-Seeing?" The lady queen hissed her frustration.

 _I told you he would turn the situation in our favor._

 _You have such faith in him_ , the woman at the other end of the chain teased.

As much as the warrior-ruler wished to, she could not negate Heimdall's right to deliver an alternate view. After all, he saw and heard all throughout the nine realms and even beyond them. She sat back on the throne, sheathed double sword ground into the golden dais. "Proceed."

The crowd murmured. Apparently this wasn't the first time Thor had interrupted her rulings. He forged onward, giving his adoptive brother the pitying look that he hated. "Heimdall swore to bring Loki back to Asgard if he killed or caused his mischief again, and he has." The king turned his gaze to the human sitting by his wife. "What has been unknown thus far is that Loki saved this mortal's life by slaying her enemy!"

The indignant audience roared protest. They could not believe that the god of lies and tricks would save any life but his own. It took Sif several minutes to silence them. Then she turned to Irene, the woman who had seemed so honorable, even if she was wanted on Midgard.

"Is this true?" It was Thor's turn to be indignant. He grew red in the face.

"You would doubt my word?"

Irene Adler faced the jury. She faced Loki. He nodded. The corner of his mouth edged upwards. "It's true. I was in battle, and I ran out of ammunition. The enemy came up behind me. I would have died if not for him." Several people hissed and spat on the polished marble floor.

"Your Majesty, if I might have a word?" Loki quietly proposed. _The faster I am out of these chains, the faster I can revert to Aesir form._ He hated all the eyes that watched him and his ragged, monstrous body. Only one pair watched with sympathy, and it was on those eyes he fixed his own. She did not look away. Maybe she couldn't.

Sif sighed. "We've already had one uncalled for testimony." Then she glared at Thor, who stood awkwardly to the side. "Speak your piece."

Loki steeled himself, drawing strength from the eyes of his prisoner. His tongue felt as heavy as the metal it was named for. "This woman and I were thrown together by the Norns. The laws of Midgard saw fit for us to be…linked." Now the silence was thick. He swallowed and continued his explanation. "I have become Midgard's expendable agent. They care not if I live or die." He let a sob creep up his throat, calculating. "At least when we are chained together, and our life forces are linked, _she_ cares."

With his shoulders slumped and his body broken, he looked downright pitiful. Even Sif was not unmoved. Thor, in accordance with his emotional self, was wiping tears from his cheeks in rough, callused movements.

"You saved her life to save your own," Sif asserted, attempting to stand firm.

"I saved her life so we could be together!" he shouted passionately, pulling at the enchanted bonds that held him in place. "I have lost my mistress, my mate, and my wife! I have lost my children, my own flesh and blood!" Tears steamed down his cheeks now, burning the grooves in his icy skin. Irene was impressed. Here was an actor who had the audience wrapped around his little finger. "Will you deny me this respite also?"

The jury shifted restlessly. One of them scowled. "Your crimes against this realm and others are great. Why should we let you live?"

 _Now._

The manacle that held Loki to his captive shone brilliantly, tattooed into Adler's skin. She thrust her arm into the air as if the light from the runes hurt her. Around his own wrist appeared an identical bracelet of runes, circling and swirling like gears on their blue canvas. "If you hurt him, you hurt me!"

Sif's eyes widened. "A Gleipnir chain," she breathed. "The chain made of things nonexistent." She frowned, her pretty mouth turning downward. "You never told me you were bound to the trickster."

Irene smiled, the picture of innocence. "You never asked." The warrior queen growled with aggravation. Instead of addressing Loki again, she pounded her sheathed sword against the floor, signaling the finality of her decision.

"Let these two tricksters go to the darkness in which they belong! They shall fall between worlds into eternity!" There was a roar of approval from the crowd. Irene's heart sank to her gut.

 _Should I not have said that?_

 _Not to worry; I have a plan. Do you trust me?_

 _I never trust you_ , she replied as guards shoved her off the dais and down towards her captor.

 _Wise choice_ , he chuckled. _Just go along with these oafs and soon we will be free._

 _You mean you'll be free._ Infuriatingly, he pretended not to hear.

…

The Bifrost did not make the journey outward as easy as the journey in. This time the Warriors Three, Thor, and Sif herself escorted them to Heimdall's outpost. The distance she saw was the same as the distance she walked.

Irene could feel Loki was uncomfortable in his skin. Prison clothes suited him ill, and there was no way to revert back to his pale, richly dressed seeming without alerting their attendants that he was more powerful than he looked.

And he did look pathetic. The tears from earlier had frozen against his face, creating drooping icicles under his eyelashes and chin.

 _So, what's this plan of yours?_

 _It's not so much a plan as an individual._

 _You have another person you trust enough to rescue you? That's sweet_ , she teased. _Maybe one day we can have a housewarming party at the Avengers' tower._

He sniffed and turned his head away. Just short of the outpost, the group stopped. Irene, whose hands had been bound, was maneuvered to where the glistening, glittering edge dropped away into nothingness. Loki joined her, shoved about without gentleness by Hogun.

"Brother, you can still repent, beg forgiveness," Thor was saying softly. Loki looked down into the dark void, where once he had roamed before landing in Midgard. His eyes narrowed in concentration. "I would give it."

"But the rest of Asgard would not. Tell me, Thor, where you would go if all the peoples of the universe reviled you. Better to fall into a void with a companion than repeat the cycle of misery."

 _You don't believe that._

 _It's true, I do not- but let him think I do._

Sif pushed Loki closer to the edge. "Are you prepared?" she asked them.

"I'll never be prepared for an eternity of darkness," Irene quipped. Behind her back, she fingered the spots around her wrist where her handcuff would be. Could it hold them together as they fell? Did gravity still apply between worlds?

"You should be grateful, Loki. I give you and this woman a chance of survival."

"May the Norns prevent you from landing with Surtr and his minions," Thor said solemnly. Then Fandral and Volstagg pushed them off the glassy surface into the blackness below.

 _What was that you said about being free again?_

…

It took a bit for Irene's eyes to adjust to the brightness around her. Her wrist felt tight, and the ground beneath her was rough and creviced. She spat out a mouthful of bitter leaves and tried to smooth down her hair, only to find that the shackle around her wrist was very solid.

"Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens." There was genuine mirth in Loki's voice, something she hadn't heard from him since- well, ever.

She switched hands to fix her hair and winced as her delicate gown ripped against a snag in the ground. Then she stood on the ground that wasn't ground and stretched as far as she could with the oddly solid chain around her wrist. The scene that greeted her was a bewildering one.

The floor on which she stood rose up in vast branching pillars, farther than she could see. The air was warm and slightly humid, and smelled of greenery. Light poured through leaves far, far above, giving the light a green tint. She felt warm and alive, and more peaceful than she had in a long time. Perhaps it was a result of her long nap.

Loki was sitting cross-legged beside her, looking smug. A great grey stallion snorted and chewed his hair. Irene noted that he was back in his Aesir form, and well-dressed for riding, at that. He sighed and combed his locks with his fingers, vaporizing equine saliva. "No, child, you cannot eat my hair, as tasty as it must be."

"Loki?" She jerked her arm, testing the solidity of her manacle. It held firm. The runes she had seen in her skin were now etched in steel. "Where did you take us?"

"We are on Yggdrasil's trunk. My son Sleipnir caught us. I assume you are familiar with the stories?"

"I am. I wouldn't put it past you to seduce a horse, actually." Then she shook her head in disbelief. "Yggdrasil's trunk. Between worlds," she breathed. "I thought it was impossible for people to live between worlds." Then she scowled, glaring at her wrist. "Speaking of living, is it true what you said?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a smidgen more specific, my dear." The term of endearment rolled off his tongue as naturally as if he'd been calling her that his whole life.

"You know very well what I'm talking about." The horse adjusted his stance, and she saw that he, impossibly, had eight legs. She could have sworn the stallion chuckled. His eyes held far more intelligence than was right.

"No, we do not share a life force. That was merely a ruse."

"I see." So she was still just a prisoner. Worse still, in this space between dimensions, her tie to Loki was real. She wouldn't be able to get further away from him than several feet. Her mind flashed forward to when one of them would need the loo and shuddered.

"Well, we can't stay here forever."

Infuriatingly, the god just unfolded his legs, leaned back against the branch at his back, and folded his hands behind his head. "Why not? We are in stasis. You would live indefinitely." Sleipnir munched a mouthful of leaves. They didn't seem to taste as bitter to him as they had to Irene.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might want something more than life as a tree person?" she pushed. "I never asked to be on this insane journey, and I never asked to be snatched off the face of the Earth. All you care about is yourself."

"Well, I never said otherwise." He delicately picked apart a seed pod and helped himself to the tiny kernel inside. "But, for you, I make an exception." He stood and bowed gallantly. She wasn't sure if he meant what he said, but then she never was. "Where would you have us go, my lady?" His eyes glinted.

She crossed her arms as best she could with one arm bound. "You mock me."

Loki looked righteously offended. "Why, when have I ever?"

She looked up at the foliage in the distance. "Very well. I want to go home."


End file.
